


Memory and Forgiveness

by Annariel



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8001763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annariel/pseuds/Annariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Me's memory is on that of a mortal  woman and she's lived to the heat death of the universe.  What is left to  her of the events in that trap street long ago where Clara met the Raven? and what does Clara think about Me's part in her death?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memory and Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



"You are not really as I remembered," Me said lazily, running her fingers through Clara's hair as it spread out on the pillow.

"I'm surprised you remembered me at all. The Doctor said you didn't have the memory of an immortal."

"I don't, but by the 22nd Century there were ways to enhance memory. I had implants and then bio-engineering. I tried to capture the memories I had in a way that allowed me to access them if I wanted."

Clara cocked her head and gave a smile that Me was already finding familiar. A smile that said she was interested and surprised and a little wary, or perhaps alert. Clara didn't miss much and was curious about most of it.

"So what do you remember about me?"

"The memory was already fading when I had the first upgrade." Me closed her eyes and accessed the memories. They were fudged and blurred a way a lot of the oldest memories in the databanks were, corrupted through multiple upgrades and copies. 

"You were wearing pale blue. I remember your hair, but I'd forgotten the features of your face, though the shape is right."

"I sound like some kind of blank."

Me smiled. The access had given her images but also feelings, a sense of her impression of Clara at the time. "Oh, you're not blank. I remember that you were sharp and alive and so strong-willed. You shine in my memory."

She opened her eyes. Clara was smiling more fully now. "I like that. I'm glad you remembered me that way. I'm glad you remember me as alive."

Me felt a moment of unease. She knew she ought to feel guilty about Clara's death, but the memory of it was merely a fact; an annotation to the image, the feeling and the impression. It could have been a footnote in one of her diaries. It was hard to feel it really related to her. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Clara blamed her, but she controlled the impulse. She had long ago decided she wasn't the sort of person who begged for or worried about forgiveness.

Clara leaned over for a swift, firm kiss. "You're forgiven, by the way, for the part you played in my death."

Me laughed into Clara's mouth, overcome by a bubbling contentment that could not be held in. After all, just because she wouldn't ask for forgiveness didn't mean it wasn't nice to be offered it.


End file.
